


Overcoming the Power of Orgasm

by ikkiM



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Go Go Bars, Secret Santa, Spy Spoof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-10 11:31:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17425064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/pseuds/ikkiM
Summary: So...my Secret Santa giftee is LibKat and her words were: "Mirror ball, pouty, NARS orgasm - NARS Orgasm is a fabulous blush - for the non-Sephora addicted."And so...of course, I can't just write a fic about cosmetics.Here it is, the 1960s 007/Spy Spoof you never wanted.LibKat is LOVELY and I hope she enjoys this fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LibKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibKat/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has no Jaime or Brienne. Apologies. It's like a cold open and it's all JB from here on out.

_A Go-Go bar in King’s Landing..._

 

Sansa Stark made her way across the dance floor of Club Pouty. The name of the club dominated the decor. There were pouting red lips everywhere; sculptures, paintings, ashtrays... even the chairs were shaped like lips, the protruding lower lip as the seat and the heart shaped upper lip as the back.

She was glad she’d worn white lipstick, instead of the blood red favored by the other patrons. With that and the way her her neon yellow boots perfectly matched her white and yellow harlequin-patterned mini-dress, she stood out in the crowd. Just as she’d intended. Her older brother, Robb, had visited Club Pouty three weeks ago. He hadn’t been seen since. Sansa wanted everyone here to notice her, in hopes of enticing someone, _anyone_ , who might know where her brother had gone to talk.

Sansa Hully-Gullied her way towards the dais where the Club’s owner, Melisandre, sat overlooking the crowd. She was perched on throne which, instead of the lip motif of the rest of the club, appeared to be made of flames. She wearing a red dress that plunged to her navel, and had one large kiss-shaped ruby adorning the red velvet choker around her neck.

Just as the music changed, Sansa glanced over at Melisandre and did a double take. Was that...? It _was_! Talla Tarly was standing behind Melisandre and… braiding the other woman’s hair? And was that Walda Frey, kneeling at Melisandre’s feet and holding out a tumbler of something red? Why would they be here at Club Pouty? And acting as Melisandre’s servants?

The older redhead caught Sansa’s eye and smiled, slow and cat-like. Sansa plastered on her own most vivacious smile and made her way closer to the pout-shaped dais. Melisandre extended one long crimson-nailed finger and curled it inward, beckoning Sansa to join her, the over-sized ruby flashing at her throat.

Sansa stared at Melisandre’s necklace, dazzled by the multi-faceted stone. Almost against her will, Sansa felt herself walking, no longer dancing, towards the other woman.

 

一

Sansa woke disoriented. She shook the curtain of her long red hair from her face and tried to stand, only to find herself tied to one of the pouting lips bar stools. She peered at her surroundings, but the room was dark, with only a red light in front of her. A figure stepped in front of the light.

“Melisandre,” Sansa hissed, struggling against her bonds. “What have you done with my brother?”

The lights came up, bathing the entire room in an eerie red glow, illuminating the walls, covered in wallpaper striped with pouting lips in varying shades of pink and red.

“He’s right here,” Melisandre answered with a smile and, to Sansa’s consternation, a slight pout.

Sansa looked around. Standing against the wall to her right was Robb staring blankly ahead, glassy-eyed. 

“Help me!” she shouted at him. He didn’t respond.

“Robb,” Melisandre whispered.

Robb turned his face to her. “How may I serve you?” he intoned.

“Just be still,” Melisandre instructed. Robb turned his face forward again.

“Robb, what are you doing? Help me!” Sansa called out as she struggled to untie herself.

“He belongs to me now,” Melisandre informed Sansa, her seemingly permanent pout transforming into a disturbing smile again.

“No, he doesn’t. He’s my brother,” Sansa argued back.

Melisandre approached her and lifted a lock of hair from her shoulder, and held it up as if comparing the ginger of Sansa’s tresses to the crimson of Melisandre’s long fingernails. Sansa twisted her head, pulling her hair away from the flame-haired woman.

“Your brother, my sweet minion,” she said. “And you should join us as well.”

“Yes, join us,” two female voices said in unison as they approached from behind Melisandre. It was Walda and Talla, both smiling. “Become our sister,” they said, again together. Out of the shadows stepped other women, faces she recognized, her friend Margaery among them, and was that her Aunt Lysa?

“Join what?” Sansa was becoming more afraid with each passing moment.

“The Sisterhood, of course. The Northern Asshai R’hllor Sisterhood, NARS, to be specific,” Melisandre answered. “Come, join us in worshiping the Red God.”

“No, never,” Sansa insisted. “I’ll never join you.” She looked again at her brother and tried to capture his attention, “Robb!”

Walda brought forward a box. Melisandre opened it, extracting a mirrored ball, no more than six inches in diameter. She held it in front of Sansa.

“What is that?” Sansa asked.

Melisandre’s glossy red lips again curved in her slow, evil smile. She swung the ball back and forth. Sansa couldn’t help but stare at it, entranced by the flickering lights.

“This holds the power of the NARS Orgasm,” Melisandre answered, and spun the ball.

Sansa could feel her willpower giving away, fading into… pleasure… the most intense pleasure of Orgasm.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

_ Four days later, downtown King’s Landing… _

Jaime Lannister whipped down the narrow streets of King’s Landing in his Aston-Marwen, pulling in to park right next to a fire hydrant in front of the MI-22 headquarters. He stepped out of the car into the sunlight. His golden hair was just a touch too long, brushing past the tops of his ears on the side and against the collar of the shirt of his bespoke tuxedo in the back. He pulled down his gold mirrored sunglasses to glance at the nondescript office building before casually making his way inside.

He stood in the entrance closet and permitted himself to be scanned and identified. “Jaime Lannister, Agent Number Zero Zero Seven. Identified,” said the distinctly feminine computer-generated voice. Jaime slipped his sunglasses into his pocket as the door slid open and he stepped into the hallway and made his way to the desk of Miss Shae Greenfork, secretary to the MI-22 director, who was simply known as “T”. 

Greenfork looked at the sheet of paper in her typewriter, picked up a pencil from her desk, corrected an error in her work and then jammed the pencil into her enormous beehive hair before looking up to acknowledge him. Jaime perched on the corner of her desk and smiled. 

“He wanted to see me?” he asked, picking up her paperweight and tossing it from one hand to the other.

Greenfork’s response was flavored by a distinct Lorathi accent. “I send you a message to come three days ago.  _ Three days _ , DoubleOSeven. Three days he waits for you and who does he blame when you are not here? Me!” 

She grabbed the paperweight from Jaime’s hand and slammed it down on a stack of files, then  pulled a letter opener from somewhere in the back of her hair and poked him in the thigh.

“Watch it,” Jaime cautioned, scooting out of her range. “You don’t want to have to requisition me a new tuxedo, do you?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “The money we spend on clothes for you…” 

Jaime stood up and flexed his shoulders before shooting his cuffs and turning to one side, giving her a full view of his profile. “But Greenfork, aren’t I worth it?”

Just then, the intercom on her desk buzzed. “Is he here?” T’s voice crackled through the speaker.

Miss Greenfork hit the button. “Just arrived, sir. Shall I show him in?”

Jaime grinned as he reached for the door handle. “I know the way.” He opened the door to find his brother standing there. Jaime could tell he was in no mood for frivolity. For a dwarf, T cast a long shadow. He was the youngest person ever to be named director of MI-22 and the organization had taken down more supervillains in his tenure than under the last four directors combined.

“DoubleAughtSeven,” T snapped, “I needed you here three days ago. NARS has become active again.”

Jaime stepped into T’s office, shutting the door. “NARS? You can’t be serious. The Northern Asshai R’hllor Sisterhood was taken out years ago, if I remember right, by the women of SARS.”

T planted himself behind his desk, took a sip of his traditional lunch martini and looked at Jaime in confusion. “The women…?”

“The Southern Asshai R’hllor Sisters?” Jaime explained.

T smirked and shook his head. “NARS was decimated by Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome, not the other SARS. Their lungs had been weakened from inhaling all the smoke from their Red God fires.” He popped an olive in his mouth and then opened the file on his desk. “They’ve made a comeback. They have a new leader, named Melisandre, supposedly of Asshai.” 

He handed a photograph to Jaime who had seated himself on the other side of the desk. It showed a pouting red-headed bombshell in a scarlet dress with a huge ruby around her neck. Jaime whistled. “She’s quite the…erm…” he let his voice trail off before continuing. “The hair. Is she a Tully?”

T shook his head. “Not as we can determine, but the recently-widowed Lysa Tully Arryn is one of her new acolytes. Along with Selyse Baratheon.”

Jaime whistled. “And what does Stannis have to say about that?”

T shrugged. “ _ Stannis _ hasn’t been seen for weeks. Neither has his brother, Renly.” T pulled more photos from the file, scattering them across the desk. “Along with Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy, Trystane Martell, the four eldests boys of Walder Frey, Loras Tyrell and probably countless other sons of Westeros.”

“So what’s NARS up to now?” Jaime asked, leaning forward and paying attention

“That’s what  _ you _ are supposed to find out. The male heirs of the oldest families of Westeros are going missing, while women like Lysa, Selyse, Talla Tarly, Walda Frey, Margaery Tyrell, a few of Oberyn Martell’s daughters and most recently, Sansa Stark, have all joined the Sisterhood.”

Jaime raised a brow. “Willingly?”

T shrugged. “That’s a good question.”

“You realize I’m not a woman? I can throw on a wig and I’m sure I’ll look great in a dress, but I think they’ll realize I’m not a _sister_ when it’s time to dance naked around the fire.” He tossed the file back on T’s desk. “Shouldn’t you assign this to someone else?”

T rolled his eyes. “You’re the heir to the richest family in Westeros. I don’t think you’ll have any problem attracting her attention. And you’re our best agent. The bigger problem is how to keep you safe.”

Jaime flashed his most arrogant smile. “I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself.”

T rolled his eyes. “No matter. Bronn has a few new gadgets that might help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, we meet Brienne.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention, this story is complete and I will be updating at least twice each week, probably Tuesday and Friday.

_Across town at Winterfell House...._

“Brienne,” Catelyn Stark continued her rant as Brienne Tarth sat listening in the sitting room at Winterfell. “First, we thought she’d become a hippie but now Sansa says she’s joined the Northern Asshai R’hllor Sisterhood! And Ned blames _me_ for it. He says if I’d allowed the children to be raised as Old Goddists, Sansa wouldn’t have so much religious confusion. We let the kids go to septs _and_ worship at heart trees, thinking they could choose when they were older. Ned _agreed_ that was for the best. Now he says it’s all my fault that Sansa is in NARS, all because my sister, Lysa joined.”

“Catelyn一 ” Brienne began, wanting to soothe the older woman. The Starks had almost been like a family to her, with her own mother gone a long time ago and her father always traveling. Of course she’d want to support them and help if she could.

“And Robb,” Cat continued. “We don’t even know where he _is_. He and that Theon Greyjoy were going on some self-discovery retreat. I thought they were just going to a commune to secretly smoke sourleaf, but what if it’s worse? What if Robb has become one of those Drowned God Witnesses who come knocking at your door chanting and handing out damp pamphlets?” She ran her hands through her flipped bob, the hair falling perfectly back into place.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that,” Brienne tried to sound calming, but couldn’t help nervously twisting one lock of her own boyish pixie cut. “I’m sure it’s just a phase with Sansa, and have you actually talked to Robb?”

Catelyn stood up and began pacing about the room. “That’s just it. When I thought Robb and Theon were just going on one of their sourleaf trips, I一 well, I covered for them. I told Ned I had heard from Robb when I hadn’t.” She looked pleadingly at Brienne. “You know how Ned overreacts. He says some other young men have well, _gone missing,_ and I assured him that Robb was fine. So Ned doesn’t know.”

Brienne was slightly shocked that Catelyn had lied to her husband, but she wasn’t one to understand the inner workings of a romantic relationship, let alone a marriage. Still, if Robb were actually missing, it would be a good idea to report it to the police. She made the suggestion.

Catelyn shook her head vehemently. “No, Brienne, _no_. I can’t. If I do that, I’ll have to reveal the truth to Ned. Sansa was going to look for Robb, and Theon, before she got sucked in by this Red God nonsense. If I can just get Sansa home, she might have word about Robb. I can get them both back and Ned will never know.”

Brienne furrowed her brow. “I’m not sure I understand what you want from me, Cat.”

“You have always been a good friend to the Stark family,” Catelyn said as she approached Brienne and took her large hands into her own smaller ones. “I need you to talk to Sansa, get her to abandon this idea of being a NAR Sister. Find out what she knows about Robb, as well, and bring my children – or at least my daughter – home.”

“I don’t know. Where would I even start?” Brienne asked, still unsure. It wasn’t as if she were an MI-22 agent or something, not that she hadn't dreamed...

“NARS is centered around one of those new dancing clubs, a go-go bar, they call them. I need you to sneak in there, find Sansa, talk some sense into her, and bring her, and Robb, home.”

It seemed to Brienne that she wasn’t the best person suited for either task and that Cat would be better off talking to Ned about Robb and trying to reach Sansa herself, but the look on Catelyn’s face was desperate.

Brienne nodded. “Of course, anything for you.”

Catelyn looked relieved. “Oh good. Now let’s get you dressed…” she began, and looked over Brienne’s comfortable high-waisted culottes and turtleneck blouse.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been asked to update more frequently, so I will. Probably Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.

 

_In Dr. Bronn’s lab..._

Jaime looked at the hideous bright green and white striped mod suit Bronn was holding up. “ _That_ is only fit for a supervillain. I’m not going to wear it,” he announced to T, standing beside him.

“You’ll wear it and you’ll like it,” Bronn announced, before muttering, “It’s not like you’ll look bad in it, rich slab of beef like you, beating off the women with a stick.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “T, tell him I’m not wearing that.”

T pressed his fingers into his brow before looking up, his eyes hard. “You will wear it. It has a special feature. Show him, Bronn.”

With a cheeky grin, Bronn put the ugly suit in a glass box. He squirted what smelled like rocket fuel on the thing and then tossed in a match. Flames erupted. Bronn pulled out a handy fire extinguisher and put out the flames. He then extracted the strangely undamaged suit from the box. He gave it a quick shake and handed it to Jaime. “Fireproof. To protect you from the flames of the Red God.”

“Nicely done, Bronn,” Jaime said as he inspected the likely-itchy cloth. “But did you have to make it so ugly? Couldn’t you have made it look a little more ...elegant?” he asked, hoping to have kept the whine from his voice.

Bronn rolled his eyes and looked at T. “You haven’t told him yet?’

T shrugged before turning to Jaime. “NARS is headquartered in a go-go bar. You have to fit in, and that,” he pointed at Jaime’s tux, “doesn’t fit in.”

Jaime looked a the frightful green stripes with resignation. “I suppose I can pull it off.”

‘Not just that,” T added. He retrieved a small box from Bronn’s desk, then opened it to reveal its contents..

Jaime shuddered as he took the big, reflective Lion of Night medallion of the its case and flipped it over. The other side was the Maiden Made of Light. It was flashy and tasteless, but would go well with the suit. “What does this do?”

Bronn took it from his hand and pressed his thumb into the Lion’s head. Out slid a secret compartment.

“This,” he explained, pointing to a round disk in the slot, “is a tracking device. If you fall for whatever magic Melisandre is using, it will let us find you. Just don’t take it off.”

Jaime gave T a beleaguered look.

T responded, “So it doesn’t fit with your sartorial standards, but you’ll survive.”

Jaime looked at the suit, then the giant medallion. He might survive, but would his sense of fashion? Anything to protect the realm, he supposed, even though the realm should be protected from such terrible taste. “So this is supposed to save me from Melisandre and her acolytes?”

“It’ll at least stop her from burning your precious nuts off,” Bronn grumbled.

“We think she is using some brainwashing technique. We think it might be…” T trailed off and looked a bit awkward.

Bronn snickered. “Go on, tell him why you think he’s the only Double _No_ O for the job.”

Jaime raised a brow.

T sighed. “We think she’s using some technique to entrance the men. Perhaps the power of一 “ he paused, “ 一Orgasm.”

Jaime coughed and choked. “What?””

Bronn explained with a leer. “We have reports that she’s using a mind control technique, using sexual pleasure to make people do her bidding. Might like to try _that_ myself, see what I could work up here in the lab.”

T ignored Bronn nodded at Jaime.

“And why does that make _me_ the only DoubleO for the job?” Jaime asked, irritation in his voice.

T just stared at him.

Jaime stared back.

Bronn broke the silence. “‘Cause the only orgasms you can have are the ones you give yourself, which are very rare indeed.”

Jaime closed his eyes and swore. “I am not incapable of一 ”

T cut him off. “No matter, DoubleAughtSeven, you’re the best man for the job. We need you to infiltrate Melisandre’s organization, find out why the male heirs of Westeros are being held and why the females are joining NARS. And if it’s by the power of Orgasm, find a way to break the spell.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Later that night at Club Pouty…_

Brienne knew she didn’t fit in at Club Pouty, or any dancing club for that matter. She was too tall and too awkward. Her white go-go boots only came up to mid-calf and her midi-dress looked more like a micro-mini. She knew she was a terrible dancer and likely sticking out in the crowd. Her plan had been to blend in, find Sansa, bust the girl out, and hopefully find Robb along the way.

Finding Sansa had been easier than she’d expected. The Stark daughter was dancing the Redlight in a cage on one side of Melisandre’s dais. Each time Brienne tried to dance her way over there, she could feel Melisandre staring at her. It didn’t help that she always seemed to be dancing alone. That didn’t surprise Brienne. She was the tallest person in the room and her moves always felt more like flailing than anything else.

At the moment, Melisandre seemed fascinated by the three Dornish women surrounding her throne. Now would be Brienne’s best chance to talk to Sansa, but she didn’t want to be too obvious. She turned her back towards Sansa’s cage and began twisting her way backwards, hoping she wasn’t going to plow into people along the way.

She was almost there when she noticed a gorgeous man in a tight-fitting green and white striped suit and green turtleneck Watusi-ing _his_ way towards Sansa’s cage. _Gods_ , he was handsome. For a moment, Brienne lost her focus. She stumbled just as she reached the cage and put her hand out, grasping the bar. It was hot. She drew back, flapping her hand, trying to cool it off. She tried to turn the awkward move into a passable Swim move.

“Sansa,” she hissed.

The younger girl kept dancing the Redlight over and over again, almost as if in a trance.

The man in the green stripes danced closer. His Watusi was good, twisting and lifting one leg, turning, twisting and then lifting the other, never once slipping or losing his balance. _Gorgeous and graceful_. Brienne shook her head. Men never affected her like this. She had to focus on her mission.

“Sansa,” she said, slightly louder to be heard over the noise of the club.

Sansa looked down at her and smiled vacantly. “Brienne,” she said. She stopped the Redlight and began a slow, sultry Hitchhiker.

“How do I get you out of this cage? We need to find somewhere to talk. Your mother is worried about you,” Brienne said.

“Mother could join us. Aunt Lysa already has,” Sansa replied as she began undulating her hips more than was strictly necessary. “You could join us, too.” Her glazed eyes traveled over Brienne. “You’re the heir to Tarth.”

Brienne thought she noticed the man in the striped suit go slightly off the beat at that. “I don’t want to _join_ you,” Brienne said. “I want to get you out of here.”

“Let me call Melisandre,” Sansa replied. She turned in her cage and looked at the NARS Priestess. The Red Woman rose and began slowly walking towards Brienne. So did many of the other ‘Sisters.’ Brienne felt herself being surrounded. She found herself staring at the ruby around Melisandre’s throat.

And then the man in the striped suit jumped in front of her.

He put one arm around her waist and began pulling her away from Melisandre. His body was pressed to hers, so closely she could feel the heat of him and the itchy fabric of his suit.

“What are you doing?” she growled.


	6. Chapter 6

_Club Pouty Part II..._

Jaime wasn’t quite sure why he’d felt the need to jump between the Red Priestess and the tall, ugly, awkward woman in the blue dress that matched her eyes. Her  _very pretty_ eyes _._ One of his MI-22 strengths was that he had never, ever been blinded by a woman. Yet, as she had started to move towards the NARS leader, Jaime had acted instinctively, placing himself right in her path, intent on protecting her.

The woman shook her head, blinked, then focused on him and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Something stupid,” he muttered to himself before leaning in to whisper in her ear. “I’m trying to save you.”

“I don’t need you to save me,” she near-hissed. “I need to get that girl in the cage out of here so I can talk some sense into her.” She tried to extricate herself from his grasp without making a scene. He held firm.

He steered them close to the exit door of the club doing a weird combination of a Twist and a Foxtrot. “Someone needs to talk some sense into _you_.” Jaime replied as he pulled her closer. They were almost free, if she would only stop fighting him.

She pushed against his shoulder while twisting and turning her body. He clamped both arms around her waist and lifted her off the floor.

“Put me down,” she growled, her large, booted feet knocking against his shins. “You’re going to drop me!”

“I’m strong enough,” he replied, even as his arm began to cramp, but that was the least of his worries. If she didn’t stop squirming, he would definitely have a much bigger problem. His body hadn’t reacted like this to a woman since he was fourteen and saw his first girlie magazine. What was it about her that had him as randy as a green boy?

He almost had her out the door when he noticed the music had stopped but the patrons of the club hadn’t stopped dancing. Their eyes were glazed and their expressions mindless while they all did a slow, sensuous version of the Redlight.

Not everyone was dancing, though. Melisandre and three of her acolytes, including the Stark girl, were moving towards them, sidling through the spellbound crowd. He needed to get out of there, fast. He set the woman down and turned towards the door, only to find it locked.

“Jaime Lannister… and Brienne of Tarth,” Melisandre said, her voice filled with seemingly erotic pleasure. “How fortuitous of you to come to me. I thought I would have to send _someone_ ,” she laid her hand on Sansa Stark, “to find you.”

Jaime pressed Brienne into his side. “Sorry. It’s been a gas, but we need to beat feet.” He felt Brienne moving towards the Red Woman as she again stared at the ruby at the base of Melisandre's throat.

Melisandre touched the jewel, causing light to reflect from it. Jaime had a bad feeling about that ruby, something about it was compelling. It put him at a disadvantage, but Jaime closed his eyes, sensing that it would be a very bad thing if he stared at that jewel. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his torso. Someone was ripping his Lion/Maiden medallion, _his tracking device_ , off of his chest. His eyes popped open to see the back of Brienne’s blonde head.

She glanced back at him and ordered him to grab Sansa Stark before turning back to Melisandre. Brienne was holding the medallion in front of her, directing the ruby’s light towards one of the mirrored walls.

The light reflected back, then, from the mirror, onto the medallion. Jaime could see it start to glow with heat and knew she was going to drop it. He whipped off his flameproof jacket, grabbed the medallion and shoved Brienne behind him. He could feel the heat of the metal through the material.  He hoped Bronn’s hideous coat was heatproof as well. The last thing he needed was to lose his hand.

“Get that door open,” he instructed, hoping the Tarth girl was as strong as she looked.

“Come to me,” Melisandre whispered, still slinking her way towards them.

He heard metal giving way as Brienne forced the door to swing outward.

“Let’s go,” Brienne yelled, she pulled the reluctant Stark girl out of the club.

Jaime threw the medallion and jacket right into Melisandre’s face before dashing out the door. He slammed it shut behind him, but with the lock broken, he knew it wouldn’t hold. Brienne was dragging the Stark girl away from the door, but she was going the wrong direction.

“Come on. We need to get to my car,” Jaime shouted as he grabbed Sansa Stark’s free arm, using her as the rope in his tug of war with Brienne Tarth. He knew that the blonde was unwilling to do real harm to the redhead and that she would have to follow his lead. He pulled the two women through the parking lot. He stuck his hand in his pocket and pressed the buttons on the special key fob Bronn had created. The car started and both doors opened.

“Lemme gooooo,” the ginger wailed as he dragged her along.

Brienne took over, shoving the girl in the miniscule backseat. Jaime slid across the hood of the car, landing on his feet on the other side, and jumped into the driver’s seat just as Brienne got into the passenger’s side and closed her door.


	7. Chapter 7

 

_Driving through the streets of King’s Landing..._

Brienne didn’t feel that she had much choice but to leave with the striped-suited stranger, Jaime Lannister. She tucked a protesting Sansa into the back before sliding into the passenger’s seat and buckling up.

Sansa began mewling as they pulled away from Club Pouty. “Where are you taking me?” she whined.

Brienne turned around and looked at her. She really had no idea where Jaime was taking them, or even who Jaime was, but she’d made a promise. “Back to your mother.”

Sansa complained, “I won’t go back to her. You can’t make me. She never lets me have any fun! Why won’t you let me have fun?”

Brienne looked at her in shock. What was Sansa even talking about? She sounded like a teenage brat, not the young woman she’d become. What had Melisandre done to her?

Her attention was drawn from Sansa when the car gave a sudden lurch, skidding around a sharp corner. Jaime was driving through the streets of King’s Landing like a racecar driver.

“Are they chasing us?” She turned to look at him, really look at him. He was somehow even more handsome than she’d thought. The green stripes of his suit had nothing on the emerald green of his eyes. His hair was golden and just long enough to brush the top of his turtleneck. His jawline could cut glass, especially since he was clenching it.

Brienne dragged her eyes away from the gorgeous man beside her.

“Not that I can tell,” he answered, glancing up into the rearview mirror.

“If you want to be chased, _I’ll_ chase you,” Sansa said, her voice now sultry and far more adult. Brienne saw one of her hands come up over Jaime’s shoulder and begin fondling his hair.

He turned to glance at Brienne. “Can you get her off of me?” The annoyance in his face was clear and surprising. Brienne didn’t think she’d ever known a man to be annoyed by the affections of a girl as beautiful as Sansa.

“Sansa, stop it now,” Brienne ordered. “Or I’ll tell your father.”

The younger woman crossed her arms and huffed. “Spoilsport.”

Brienne turned to Jaime again. “Who are you and where are you taking us?” she asked.

He’d been a huge help getting Sansa out of Club Pouty, but although she knew his name – who didn’t know the infamous Lannisters? – she didn’t really know if he was taking them to safety or driving them into a different danger.

Jaime caught her astonishing blue eyes, then looked deliberately at the compartment panel in front of Brienne. “I’m just a guy who was out looking for a good time.” He tilted his head back, drawing her attention to Sansa.

Brienne understood him perfectly. Whoever he was, and wherever he was taking them, he didn’t want to say in front of Sansa, but Brienne could find out by checking out the glove box.

“MMmm, a good time,” Sansa moaned and tossed one of her boots into the front seat, then one of her stockings. Jaime dodged the shoe, but the stocking ended up hanging from the rear view mirror.

Brienne refused to look back at the girl. She opened the glovebox and pulled out a wallet and a gun. She looked up in alarm.

Jaime rolled his eyes and nodded towards the billfold.

She opened it and looked over the ID she found inside. _Jaime Lannister, 007_ was all it said. She knew what that meant; he was MI-22.

“Were you there looking for一 ?” she jerked her head towards the back seat where Sansa had begun moaning.

“Yes, and no,” Jaime cut her off as he took another sharp turn. “So, Brienne Tarth _,_ heir to an island and the only daughter of the Evenstar, what were _you_ doing there?”

He was a special agent. Brienne would not lie to an authority. “Catelyn Stark asked me to go to Club Pouty and find her daughter, and bring her home if I could.”

“Just her daughter?” Jaime asked.

Brienne processed that quickly. “You mean Robb is there, too?” she whispered so Sansa wouldn’t hear. Not that the girl was paying too much attention. She seemed completely absorbed in herself. Brienne glanced back at her and felt her face flame, all thoughts of telling the girl to fasten her seatbelt gone. She looked back at Jaime.

“Not sure, I was trying to find that out when I had to rescue you,” Jaime said.

His arrogance was annoying, but was at least a distraction from Sansa’s activities in the rear seat. Brienne huffed. “I think I rescued _you_.”

He grinned. “Maybe we rescued each other.”

Brienne looked ahead and found, to her alarm, that they were speeding towards a brick wall.

“Jaime,” she shouted, and braced herself for impact.

The MI-22 agent hit a button and the wall opened, revealing an underground parking garage. He screeched to a stop, hitting another button to close the door. He turned to her with a grin. “Scare you?”

Breathing hard, she narrowed her eyes and looked back at Sansa, who had stopped whatever she’d been doing before and was now lying in the backseat sucking her thumb.

“You could have warned me,” Brienne huffed. “Where are we?”

“My office,” Jaime responded.


	8. Chapter 8

_Inside the MI-22 building...._

 

Jaime knew it wasn’t protocol to bring a civilian to MI-22 headquarters, but he had the Stark girl, and he doubted if the Tarth heiress would have let him send her home in her current _condition_. He hustled them through the process of being scanned and identified while explaining the situation to T over the phone in the elevator.

His brother met them in Bronn’s lab. Greenfork took charge of Sansa, settling her in an observation room. They could see her through the two-way mirror. She alternated between whining that they should let her out and trying to manipulate them into setting her free. It had taken Greenfork almost thirty minutes to truly settle her down. Now calm at last, the newest NAR Sister was lying on the bed, whimpering about how desperately she needed an orgasm.

Jaime raised his eyebrows at T.

T let out a low whistle.

Brienne was blushing head to toe.

Ms. Greenfork crossed her arms over her chest and glared at T.

“Waste of a good…” Bronn muttered under his breath as he reached over and flipped a switch, turning the sound from Sansa’s cell off.

“I need to get her back to her mother. Catelyn asked me to find her,” Brienne said.

Bronn cocked his head towards the cell. “I don’t think she’s in any shape to be seeing her mother. _Anyone’s_ mother, really.”

Brienne blushed even harder. “I made a promise.”

“Until we can figure why she joined NARS, or at least ensure she’s not just going to go back there, we should keep her here,” T said before turning to look at Brienne. “You mentioned that while you were in Club Pouty, Melisandre said she had wanted to see you? Both of you?”

“I _am_ one of the sons of the great Houses,” Jaime responded before turning to Brienne, “and you are the heiress to Tarth?”

“Well, you see, my brother died and then…” Brienne’s voice trailed off as they all stared at her.

Jaime watched her throat working convulsively, distracted by all those muscles and freckles.

“Yes,” Brienne answered simply. “Are you saying Melisandre is trying to get all the daughters of the major houses to join NARS?”

T looked at Jaime, who shrugged. “Might as well fill her in,” Jaime said.

T sighed. “While the female heirs of Westeros are all converting to the Red God, the male heirs of Westeros are going missing.”

Brienne widened her eyes in surprise. “Catelyn... she’d mentioned that Robb and his friend, Theon Greyjoy, the only living son of Balon, hadn’t been heard from in weeks. Sansa had gone to Club Pouty to find them.”

T nodded. “We think Melisandre is holding them captive.”

“Captive? Catelyn didn’t say she’d received a ransom note,” Brienne said.

T shook his head. “We don’t think she’s holding them for ransom. We think she’s holding them for一 ”

“Control,” Jaime finished. “If she has all the daughters joining NARS and then men under control, she can take over the whole country.”

“Or maybe she wants ‘em as sex slaves,” Bronn suggested with more than appropriate interest.

Greenfork reached out and smacked his arm. “You, always with the sex. Sex. Sex. Sex.”

The blush that had left Brienne’s face rushed back. Jaime couldn’t help grinning at her.

Bronn leered at Greenfork. “Like there’s something wrong with sex?” Then he turned his attention towards Brienne, looking her up and down.

Jaime stepped between the sleazy doctor and the tall blonde. “T, tell her the rest.”

“We think Melisandre is acquiring the male heirs of the major families so she can,” he coughed, “determine which one is Azor Ahai, who will become king and convert all of Westeros to worshiping R’hllor.”

“Azor Ahai?” Brienne repeated. “Seriously? That’s just a ridiculous part of the Legend of the Long Night.”

T shrugged.

“Didn’t say she was sane,” Bronn replied, his tone dry.

T expanded, “The thing you have to learn about supervillains is that their plans don’t always make sense. Like every other psychopath, Melisandre just wants to take over the world.”

Brienne’s brow furrowed and at just that moment, Sansa Stark flung herself against the two-way mirror in her room. She seemed to be kissing herself and rubbing her body against the glass.

Jaime took a step back and pulled Brienne with him.

“But _how_ is she controlling them? What is wrong with Sansa? And the other people in the club?” Brienne asked, looking at the window with horror.

Bronn looked at T.

T looked at Jaime.

Jaime looked at the ceiling.

Greenfork rolled her eyes.

“She controls them with the Orgasm,” Greenfork announced.

Brienne’s face flooded red. “W一 What?”

Bronn flipped the switch again, and they all turned to look at Sansa in the interrogation room. She was now dancing provocatively while licking and biting her own lips. “Orgasm, and it seems that she,” Bronn cocked his head, “could use one.”

  



	9. Chapter 9

_Back in T’s office...._  


Jaime and Brienne were seated across from T. Shae Greenfork was passing out coffee. She pulled a variety of sweetener packets from her hair and placed them on the edge of the desk.

Jaime stared at Brienne’s long legs as she awkwardly crossed them, and then uncrossed them before pressing her thighs together and balancing her cup and saucer on her knees. She picked up the cup.

“Wait,” T halted her.

Brienne stopped with the cup midway to her lips. T pulled a flask from the drawer in his desk, opened it and added a healthy splash to his own coffee, before handing it to Greenfork, who with a roll of her eyes passed it to Jaime. He doctored his cup before turning to Brienne.

“No一 I mean, I don’t一 ” Brienne stammered.

Jaime poured a small measure in her cup anyway. “Believe me, you’re going to need it.” He sealed the flask and handed it back to T with a nod.

Brienne took the cup and lifted it to her lips. Jaime was certain she’d barely taken a sip.

“So,” T began, “let me tell you about Orgasm.”

Brienne blushed to the roots of her hair. Jaime didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman turn that red. He fought the urge to reach out and touch her arm to see if she felt as warm as she looked.

“I— I know, I mean, I don’t— I have— don’t need一 ” she stammered.

T held up his hand. “Not that kind of orgasm. Melisandre is using some sort of spell or ancient magic, which holds the power of Orgasm. She can turn people into well— you saw Sansa.”

Brienne then took a real sip of her coffee, and then coughed from the likely unfamiliar burn of the alcohol. Still, Jaime was certain that the remaining red in her face was her natural flush and not from the drink.

T shook his head. “We don’t know yet, but Bronn will work with her to try to break it. Our bigger concern is how to make sure no one else falls under Melisandre’s spell.”

“Oh, you mean一 you think一 ” Brienne began before taking a deep, calming breath. Between that and the booze, she seemed better able to focus. She turned to him. “So that’s why you were there?”

Jaime nodded.

“So we have to go back, and get Robb,” she said, turning back to T. “And everyone else she has kept spellbound.”

“Not _we_ , just me,” Jaime said firmly, staring into those pretty blue eyes. “I’ll go back on my own.”

“You barely got out of there without my help. And I have to go back. I promised Catelyn,” she protested.

“And why does that matter?” Jaime responded. “What do you owe _her_?”

“It’s not about _owing_ her; she’s my friend,” Brienne answered.

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “You’d put yourself at risk of falling under Melisandre’s spell, possibly becoming a part of the Red God Sisterhood, for a friend?”

“Yes,” Brienne snapped, emboldened now. “I would. Why are _you_ doing it?”

“Because it’s my job. And that’s why I’m going back in and you’re not.” He turned back to T with a satisfied smile. Something about the look on T’s face made him falter. Brienne huffed beside him.

“Well, actually,” T started, “after what happened tonight at the club, it seems better for both of you to infilitrate Club Pouty.”

“What?” Jame growled.

“I got in just fine once on my own,” Brienne said at almost the exact same time.

“And just staring at that ruby, you were ready to do whatever Melisandre wanted,” Jaime argued.

“Only at first,” Brienne countered. “Then I realized I could reflect it using your medallion.”

“And now that I know that, I can figure out how to defeat her _without you_ ,” Jaime said smugly.

“You need me,” Brienne snapped.

“Do not,” Jaime bit back, but a voice inside him whispered that yes, perhaps he did need her, though not to defeat Melisandre...

T put up his hands, indicating they should both hear him out.

“Bronn thinks that it’s likely that the reason people are falling under Melisandre’s spell is because they…” his voice trailed off and he looked up at Greenfork, who crossed her legs primly and stared the director straight in the eye. T looked back at Jaime and Brienne. “Is because they are in need of sex, and because of Jaime’s history, and the research I’ve received on you, Ms. Tarth, it seems that both of you may be…” he hesitated again, “immune.”

Jaime knew T had, at his fingertips, incredible amounts of information on everyone in Westeros, but he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this particular bit of news. He looked over at Brienne who was again a beacon of red. He suspected she might spontaneously combust. Jaime wondered if she were truly immune to the power of Orgasm. The thought of her being aroused was an unacceptable distraction, but the thought of her never being aroused was somehow much, much worse.

“Oh,” she said. “Well, I ...I一 ”

“Say nothing more,” Greenfork interrupted. “Just tell her,” she said to T.

“We think that you and Jaime can get into Club Pouty together, and figure out the key to her use of Orgasm. And by doing that, rescue the sons and daughters of the prominent families of Westeros.” T looked Brienne right in the eye and Jaime didn't like it one bit. “Including Robb Stark.”

“I’ll do it,” Brienne responded.

“I work alone,” Jaime said at almost the exact same time.

They turned to glare at each other.

“DoubleAughtSeven, I know you prefer to work alone, but Melisandre is the most devious supervillain MI-22 has ever come across. We can’t send you in there by yourself,” T responded.

Jaime crossed his arms over his chest. “I don't like it. It’s too dangerous. She won’t have a chance.”

“I might not have a chance, but I have no choice,” Brienne responded. “I have to try to save Robb, and all the others that Melisandre is controlling. And I need to find out how to turn Sansa back to normal.”

She was practically radiating honor and purpose, an almost blue glow more powerful than that from any jewel. He turned back to T, resigned. “So what’s the plan?”


	10. Chapter 10

_Late the next night in the back alley outside Club Pouty_ …

Brienne allowed Jaime to lead her as they approached the door to the back of the club. They’d both changed into black pants, black boots and black turtlenecks and were wearing black caps. She could only see him so well because of the glimpse of golden hair escaping his hat.

She could hear the persistent beat of the music inside. Backs pressed against the wall, they made their way towards the back door. Suddenly, there was a crash from the end of the alley. Jaime grabbed her and pulled her behind a dumpster.

She stayed perfectly still, listening, and then noticed that she was actually pressed against Jaime as he curled around her. She felt a frisson of electricity go through her just from his presence, his scent…

She couldn’t help but inhale. Jaime’s arms tightened around her. The music in the club changed. Brienne wiggled.

“It was the wind or a racoon,” she whispered. “Let me go.”

Brienne heard him mutter, “stubborn, obstinate…” as he released her. They both stood up slowly, peeking over the top of the garbage bin. She looked hard, her eyes straining in the darkness, searching for any movement. After a full minute, she felt sure the alley was empty. Jaime moved from behind her.

“I’m going to pick the lock. Stay behind me,” he ordered.

She snorted.

They went back to edging their way along towards the door when suddenly it opened, flooding the alleyway with light. Jaime grabbed her, pulled off her hat and laid a kiss on her.

“Go with it,” he whispered in her ear as her pulled her close.

Again, with the way she seemed to understand him instinctively, she knew that since they couldn't very well hide, they’d have to pretend to have come out into the alley for a make out session. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him for all she was worth. Not only to make it look good, but because she’d been thinking about kissing him since she first saw him.

His lips on hers were perfect. He was giving as much to the kiss as she was. She moaned at the sensation of his body pressed to hers. As her mouth opened, his tongue slid inside. She suddenly felt like there were a dozen butterflies in her stomach, and that her knees began to melt. She began to wonder if she had been affected by Melisandre’s powers. She’d never felt like this before.

“Oi,” a voice broke through the haze of her thoughts. “What are you two doing out here?”

Jaime pulled back from her. He looked as dazed as she felt.

“I said, what are you doing out here?”

Brienne turned to look at the person in the doorway. It was one of the Dornish women who had been on the dais with Melisandre earlier that evening.

Jaime turned to towards the woman and smiled, looking more composed than Brienne felt. “Just getting a little alone time, if you know what I mean.”

“MmmMm,” the woman purred and ran her hand down her neck. “Perhaps I could join you.”

Then another voice sounded from behind her. “Oh, you aren’t going to join them, Obara, they are going to join _us_. Melisandre has been waiting for them.”

Brienne knew that voice. It was Sansa Stark.


	11. Chapter 11

_In Melisandre’s villainous lair..._

Jaime sat tied to a pouting-lip chair in Melisandre’s lair. Brienne was tied to the chair next to him. One moment, they’d been alone in the alley, and the next they had been surrounded by the Sisters. It would have been useless to fight, although he could tell Brienne wanted to try. It was only his arm around her waist that stopped her from grabbing Sansa Stark and trying to make a break for it.

 _Sansa_.

He looked at her.

Melisandre spoke up, drawing his attention. “Wondering how she escaped?” She walked over and began stroking Sansa’s hair. The young woman purred and looked up at Melisandre in adoration.

“It seems your Dr. Bronn is quite susceptible to,” she turned to look at Jaime, “a woman's charms.”

Sansa tilted her head, exposing an enormous hickey.

Brienne gasped and turned to Jaime with a  glare, “If that man harmed her…” she began.

Melisandre laughed, slow and low. “More like _she_ harmed _him_ , dear Brienne.” She approached them and ran her long scarlet fingernail over Brienne’s forehead. Brienne twisted away, trying to get away, and Jaime wanted to kill the Red Priestess for daring to touch her.

“Dearest Sansa told me everything. Your plan to sneak into my club and try to find and destroy the source of my power.” Melisandre smiled. “As if you could.”

He looked around the room, hoping to see a way out, or something, anything, to get them out of there, or at least save Brienne. It was decorated in a pouting lip motif, just like the club, only there were torches evenly spaced on the walls. And between each set of torches stood a man. He saw a couple of Tyrell and Baratheon brothers, Theon Greyjoy, Robb Stark, and other heirs, all staring glassy-eyed at Melisandre.

The NAR Sister standing behind Melisandre seemed more lucid, but that wasn’t a good thing. Like Sansa, the other women seemed intent on dancing and gyrating, stroking one another’s arms, braiding their hair. Jaime had seen cults before, but none quite like this.

“Let us go,” Brienne entreated. “Set us free, let us take Sansa and Robb, and we’ll leave you alone.”

“You’re a sweet, innocent thing. I believe if I actually made you give your word, you would stand by it,” Melisandre replied as she ran her finger down Brienne’s large crooked nose, seemingly fascinated by Brienne's distinctive features.

Jaime tried to relax his hands, to see if the bonds would loosen. If he could get free, he could maybe cause enough of a distraction for Brienne to escape. He pressed his knee against hers, hoping she would get the hint. He felt her press back and could sense the stubbornness, even in that small gesture. She wouldn’t leave without Sansa and Robb and maybe not even without _him_. He tapped his foot against hers, letting her know she was being ridiculous. He went back to working on his bindings.

“So what is your plan?” Jaime asked. Supervillains always liked to explain their plans and it would buy him time to work on loosening the ropes at his hands. “Are you going to turn everyone into sex zombies?”

Melisandre wheeled away from Brienne and glared at him. “My Sisters are not _sex zombies_. We are all worshipers of R’hllor.”

“Praise the Red God,” one of the Frey women called out. A few others repeated the phrase in murmurs.

“And the rest?” Jaime tilted his head towards the men to the side of him opposite Brienne, hoping to keep Melisandre distracted. He knew Brienne would be trying to work on her ropes as well.

“Men have a harder time learning to serve the Red God. They end up thinking they are Azor Ahai reborn and trying to lead, rather than follow. They must be kept under tighter control,” she explained. “And men, well,” she ran her fingers through Jaime’s hair, “you have your uses.”

“You’re not searching for Azor Ahai himself them?” Jaime asked to keep her talking though his skin was crawling from her touch.

Melisandre touched the ruby at her throat. “Azor Ahai was a silly boy. I’ve kept that myth alive to disguise my true plans.”

“So if you’re not seeking the Prince Who was Promised, what is it that you truly want?”

She gave him her slinky, scary, scarlet, smile. “To rule the world, of course. And now that I have control over the major families of Westeros, I’ll have all the power and money I need.”

Jaime felt the rope around his left wrist start to loosen. He needed more time. “You won’t win, you know that, right? You won’t be able to convert all of Westeros. The worshippers of the Old Gods are stubborn and will never convert and the Seven have a hold over the majority of the population. And R'hllor is likely to get drowned at a Drowned God Dousing Social.”

Melisandre threw back her head and laughed. “You foolish man. _No one_ is immune to the power of the NARS Orgasm.” She glanced over at Theon Greyjoy before looking Jaime straight in the eye. “And now, it is time to convert you both.” She turned away.

Jaime felt someone step behind him and grasp his head to hold it in place while positioning their fingers to keep his eyes open. He wasn’t going to be able to escape. He slid his eyes sideways. Someone was standing behind Brienne and holding her head as well. Their only hope was if, as T suggested, he and Brienne were somehow immune to the power of Orgasm.

Jaime thought T was wrong. He wasn’t immune to sexual arousal, not with the way Brienne had been affecting him since the moment he saw her. Even sitting tied up beside her, in serious danger, he was physically aware of her every move. Jaime didn’t have much hope for himself, but maybe he could hold out long enough to save Brienne.

Melisandre pulled out a mirror ball from a box held by still-as-a-statue Stannis Baratheon. She held it high out in front of her and began spinning it. “Watch, watch the lights, and behold the power of Orgasm.”

Jaime couldn’t help but stare. He let his eyes go glassy. He pressed his foot against Brienne’s.


	12. Chapter 12

_Melisandre’s Lair, Part II…_

 

Brienne had almost gotten her hands free when Melisandre pulled out the mirror ball. Jaime had stalled as long as he could, but it hadn't been long enough. Even had she gotten free, Brienne doubted she would have been able to untie Jaime and escape with Robb and Sansa, and there was no way she would leave even one of them behind.

She stared at the spinning mirrors but felt nothing except slight nausea, and wondered if this was how it was supposed to affect her. She felt Jaime’s foot press against hers. She cut her eyes to the side and looked at him. His eyes were glassy, but his knee pressed back against hers. Brienne looked again at the spinning ball and the woman standing behind it. She knew what she needed to do. She let out a little moan and hoped it sounded the way Sansa’s had.

“Praise the Red God,” she murmured, hoping that was the right thing to say. She pressed her knee against Jaime’s one more time, making sure he understood.

She tried to look as sultry as possible, and was sure she was failing. Melisandre smiled. “I told you no one could defeat the power of Orgasm.” She then instructed her acolytes, “Untie them.”

Melisandre lowered the spinning mirror ball as the person behind Brienne untied her hands. Brienne rose from her chair. Jaime stood up beside her. She knew that this was the moment they had to act. And she knew Jaime was aware of it, as well.

With a deep breath, Brienne spun and punched the Sister standing behind her. The woman’s nose began to bleed. Jaime picked up his chair and swung it, causing four of the entranced men to double over. Brienne yelled for Sansa.

“Get them,” Melisandre shouted as chaos erupted.

“Brienne, what are you doing?” Sansa said tearfully. “Stop,” she began pleading. “Why can’t you just enjoy the Orgasm?”

Brienne grabbed at Robb’s arm, but he wouldn’t budge. As Loras Tyrell advanced on her, she kicked him in the stomach, effectively disabling him. She then took out Stannis with a single karate chop to the neck. She could hear Jaime fighting beside her. Then she felt his back against hers.

He turned his head and whispered. “I’ll hold them off; you get Melisandre.”

She nodded, hoping he felt the movement of her head. She looked around the room. Melisandre had retreated to the far corner, the mirror ball in her hand and still spinning. There was one Dornish Sister and Margaery Tyrell standing in front of her. Sansa had sunk to the floor, her upset seemingly forgotten, and had begun playing with her hair.

Brienne would only have one shot, and it wasn’t a good one. She made a dive for Melisandre, knocking Margaery aside as if she were no more than a rag doll, and then she kicked the Dornish woman’s knee, causing her to fall. Brienne brought her elbow down on the back of the woman’s neck. She could hear crashes and grunts behind her and she knew Jaime was holding his own.

Brienne reached for Melisandre, going straight for the ruby around the woman’s throat, but the Red Priestess held up the mirror ball to protect herself. Brienne batted the glass aside, and ignored how the sharp edges sliced into her skin. It flew from Melisandre’s grasp and shattered on the floor.

“No,” Melisandre screeched. She fell to the ground trying to gather up the tiny mirrored pieces. Careless of the cuts on her hands, Brienne grabbed the choker from around Melisandre’s neck and ripped it off. Instantly, the red woman began to change.

The sounds of fighting behind her stopped, although she could hear Jaime’s labored breathing.

“Brienne, what are you doing here?” Sansa asked from her seat on the floor.

“Where is _here_?” Margaery Tyrell asked.

“This isn’t the gym,” Robb Stark mumbled from behind her.

“Fewer?” Stannis Baratheon said confusedly.

Brienne would have turned to look at them, but she couldn’t take her eyes from Melisandre. She felt Jaime come to stand beside her. His hand was on the small of her back, supporting her.

“What’s happening?” she asked. The beautiful, sexy red haired woman was now a crone, shriveled and old.

“What have you done?” the ancient woman – Melisandre – cried out.

“What _we’ve_ done?” Jaime demanded, incredulous. “We’ve defeated you and the power of NARS Orgasm. That’s what we’ve done.”

“And just in time,” T said.

Brienne turned and saw the dwarf standing in the doorway with several agents and medical personnel. They began to lead away the former NARS members and the men who had been in Melisandre’s thrall. The agents approached Melisandre cautiously and cuffed her hands behind her back.

Brienne and Jaime turned towards T. “What happened?” Jaime asked.

“It seems we should never leave Bronn alone to interrogate a beautiful woman. Apparently he doesn’t have the same resistance that you do,” T answered.

“Will he be all right?” Brienne asked. She hadn’t liked the man, but she certainly didn’t want to see him harmed.

T grinned, the first time she’d seen him do so. “He’s fine, but I suspect when Ned Stark finds out how Sansa subdued him, he’s going to find himself the groom at a shotgun wedding.”

Brienne  blushed at the implication.

“Weddings? I love weddings,” Sansa said dreamily as a medic led her away.

“Excellent work, DoubleAughtSeven, and you as well, Miss Tarth,” T said. “Congratulations. It seems you _were_ immune to the power of Orgasm.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jaime responded and Brienne felt his hand traveling from the small of her back, down…


	13. Epilogue

_On a yacht anchored off the shore of Tarth…_

 

“Oh gods, Jaime, Jaime, Jaime, yes, yes,” Brienne screamed in pleasure as she slammed her head back on the pillow of the king-sized bed. She panted and tried to return to her senses as Jaime crawled up her body and poked his head out of the sheet, kissing up her neck and finally placing a scorching kiss on her lips before flopping down in the bed beside her.

“See, you’re not even remotely immune to the power of orgasm,” he bragged, looking very pleased with himself.

She poked him in the arm. They’d already spent a week alone on this yacht. “Neither are you.”

He grinned at her. “Well, I have _other_ skills.”

She relaxed in Jaime’s arms, and the last few weeks flashed before her eyes. The clearance, the training, the oath, her acceptance as an agent into MI-22. She flushed and answered honestly, “You do.”

“So, does mean that MI-22’s newest agent is up for a second round?” Jaime asked.

She looked at the gorgeous god in bed beside her. With an uncharacteristically cheeky grin, she answered, “Well, I thought you were going to prove to me that you really are a _double O_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it...the spy spoof you never needed. This was fun for me, Jaime wearing an ugly suit and doing the watusi, Brienne being superhonorable and blushy.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. Season 8 is almost upon us. HYPE.


End file.
